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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292654">Once Bitten, Twice Shy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnObsessedFangirl/pseuds/JustAnObsessedFangirl'>JustAnObsessedFangirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cheating, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - The Maze Runner, Sad Newt (Maze Runner), Someone help me do tags please, happy ending??, i don't know how to use this website, maze runner - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:15:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnObsessedFangirl/pseuds/JustAnObsessedFangirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a new girl arrives in the Glade, things change between Y/N and her boyfriend, Newt. As the situation in the Maze grows increasingly dangerous, Y/N is pushed to her edge, running to map during the day and running to escape her problems at night. The Maze is no place for love, she’s decided. But how can that apply to Newt?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Newt (Maze Runner)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A drop of sweat trickled down your neck to your spine as you waited for the Box to rise. Newt was to your left, standing tall, staring down at the elevator. He had a hand on the small of your back. It was a little gesture, something he’d done without thinking when you’d walked over to him.</p>
<p>Your lips quirked into a small smile. You took a step closer to Newt, and he responded by gently pulling you to his side. A breeze ruffled his sandy hair and cooled your hot skin. Newt grinned and said, “Promise you won’t fall for the Greenie in there?” His accent played like music over his words.</p>
<p>“Only if you promise, too.”</p>
<p>Newt laughed and squeezed your waist. “I promise.”</p>
<p>You raised your hand, biting back a smirk. “Pinky promise?” You wagged your pinky in his face.</p>
<p>“Of course, love,” he said, tone bordering between teasing and serious. </p>
<p>The two of you interlocked pinkies. He looked at you, his soft brown eyes making your heart flutter. The Box screeched to a halt in the background. </p>
<p>“I promise,” you said. You pecked his pinky, then pulled away, all smiles. Newt’s attention stayed on you, a goofy, blissful grin on his lips.</p>
<p>“It’s a girl!” someone shouted.</p>
<p>Newt’s gaze shot to the Box. </p>
<p>You turned too. In the Box, standing amongst barrels of water and crates of building supplies, was a girl. As the sunlight hit her, she shrank into a corner, wrapping her arms around herself. Her long auburn hair was draped around her shoulders like a shawl, visible even in the shadows.</p>
<p>No one said anything for a moment, just let the bugs sing in their trees, let the wind blow, let the Box creak. Then Newt approached the edge. “Welcome to the Glade,” he said.</p>
<p>The girl’s head swiveled from side to side as she took in all of the people surrounding the Box.</p>
<p>“Everyone, back up!” Newt called.</p>
<p>There was a shuffling of footsteps, but the boys hardly moved. They wanted to see her.</p>
<p>You felt your back stiffen. You could remember being in her position. You could remember waking up with no memories, not even of your name, and being surrounded by strangers. Male strangers.</p>
<p>You joined Newt at the edge, letting the girl see you, assess you, before you jumped down into the Box. She immediately cringed away, her back pressed to the wall. You raised your hands.</p>
<p>“Welcome to the Glade,” you said, repeating Newt’s words. “I’m Y/N. Do you remember your name?”</p>
<p>She looked at you with large, scared green eyes. Freckles danced across her cheeks. She shook her head.</p>
<p>“That’s okay. Most of us didn’t when we got here. Let’s get out and then we can explain.” You tried to keep your tone light and helpful, side-stepping the inevitable questions for a few moments.</p>
<p>The girl nodded. She cleared her throat. “Okay.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it didn’t waver.</p>
<p>Nodding, you walked with her to the side of the Box. You helped boost her up at the wall. Above, Newt and another boy grabbed her arms and pulled her over the edge. Gally reached a hand down for you.</p>
<p>Newt was already introducing himself when you got out. The girl’s eyes darted from his face to the other boys to the walls. She had her arms wrapped around herself again, maybe hoping that if she squeezed herself tight enough, she’d wake up and find that all of this was a dream.</p>
<p>You went to Newt’s side.</p>
<p>“Y/N and I will give you the tour.” Newt looked to you for confirmation.</p>
<p>You nodded. You gave the girl a small, friendly smile. “We’ll show you the gardens first. They’re a lot calmer than this.” Around you, the boys had begun talking, jostling, laughing. Each yell made the girl flinch.</p>
<p>The three of you began walking, you and Newt on either side of the girl, but not before Newt grabbed a boy and told him to tell Alby about the new Greenie.</p>
<p>“Who’s Alby?” the girl asked. “What’s a Greenie?” She was speaking louder now, almost at a normal level, as you all left the crowd behind.</p>
<p>“Alby’s the leader of the Glade,” Newt said.</p>
<p>“You’re not the leader?” she asked. “I would’ve thought…” she trailed off. “I don’t know.”</p>
<p>A small, almost embarrassed smile tugged at Newt’s lips.</p>
<p>You laughed. “I thought that too when I first got here. He’s second-in-command.” Your eyes traced over Newt, studying your boyfriend. It had to be the way he carried himself. Even walking with a limp, he seemed like someone who knew what he was doing and who would help people who couldn’t figure it out. Your heart swelled, a mixture of happiness, pride, and love fueling it.</p>
<p>The Greenie nodded, and you saw she was also staring at Newt. He looked up and they met eyes.</p>
<p>“What was your other question?” </p>
<p>At the sound of your voice, the girl’s attention turned to you.</p>
<p>“You wanted to know what a Greenie is, right?” you asked. She nodded. “Well. It’s you. You’re a Greenie. You’re the new kid.”</p>
<p>She mulled that over for a few seconds. “I don’t think I like that too much.”</p>
<p>Newt laughed. “You’re gonna have to get used to it until someone else comes up, Greenie.”</p>
<p>“At least, until you remember your name.” You stopped as you said that, standing at the edge of the garden. A few boys milled among the rows of vegetables, pulling up a weed here, harvesting a tomato there. The air was heavy with heat. It felt like a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You wanted to snuggle into it and smell the fresh dirt around you.</p>
<p>The girl made a noise. A surprised cough, or maybe a strangled yelp. Then, under her breath, she whispered something.</p>
<p>“What was that, love?” Newt asked, leaning toward her.</p>
<p>“Margaret,” she repeated. She said it again, “Margaret.” Lifting her head, meeting the plants with a steady stare, she said, “That’s my name.”</p>
<p>You smiled and tried to meet Newt’s eyes. He wore a broad grin. He stared at Margaret.</p>
<p>The next few days were a busy blur. You and Minho had a few close calls in the Maze, getting back with less time than you were comfortable with before the doors closed. And, even if the running was hard and the Maze was the same, you’d have to go back and map it all out, and see that it was a repeat from a previous day in the Maze, and put the map with all of the others, and then finally get some food and get some sleep and hope that tomorrow would be better.</p>
<p>It wouldn’t be as bad if Newt wasn’t also busy. He’d come to your room late. The two of you would fall asleep, tangled in each other’s arms and legs. And then you’d have to leave early the next morning, with only a sleepy “Love you” to fuel your day.</p>
<p>Standing outside the Maze, waiting for the doors to open, Minho by your side, you wondered aloud if being a Runner was worth it.</p>
<p>Minho scoffed, bouncing on his toes. Nervous energy radiated from his body, subconsciously setting you on edge. The wall was beginning to rumble. “Of course it’s worth it.” He slipped through the crack, setting off at an easy pace. You followed. “We’re, like, the coolest people in here.” He sounded distracted.</p>
<p>“With competition like ‘Captain Gally,’“ you said, using air quotes, “that’s not too hard.”</p>
<p>Minho’s loud laugh filled the early morning air.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t that funny, Min,” you said when he still hadn’t stopped.</p>
<p>He cut his laugh off abruptly, sneaking a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry.”  </p>
<p>You peered closely at him. His gait, normally smooth and confident, was a little different. Awkward. Uncertain.</p>
<p>You decided not to push it. Not this early. Not when all you could think about was the day ending and finally getting to be close to Newt again.</p>
<p>Minho cleared his throat as you two turned left. It was like he’d read your mind when he asked, “So, how are things going with Newt?”</p>
<p>“Good.” You couldn’t bite back your smile. </p>
<p>“Yeah?” There it was again! There was something fake in his tone, something falsely cheerful.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” you stated. Your smile slipped into a frown. “Why?”</p>
<p>Minho began slowing as you approached the intersection where the two of you would split up. “Well…it’s just. I mean, I’ve been hearing some things…Don’t you think he’s spending a lot of time with Margaret?”</p>
<p>“He’s showing her around,” you said stiffly. Newt had spent a lot of time with you when you’d first arrived. It was normal. “She hasn’t stuck with a job yet. It’s his responsibility to help her.” The words coming out of your mouth were Newt’s, the ones he’d told you a few nights ago as you lay next to each other, muttering details about your days as you drifted off.</p>
<p>Minho was nearly at a walk. The intersection was straight ahead. “Y/N. I’ve just…I’ve heard.” He paused to take a deep breath. </p>
<p>Coldness flooded your chest. You could hear your heart beating in your ears. Icy fingers of dread began clawing at your lungs, restricting them, squeezing them, making it hard to breathe. You sped up.</p>
<p>“I think he’s cheating on you, Y/N.”</p>
<p>You sprinted to the right. “I’ll see you at the doors, Minho.” You didn’t turn around as you yelled. You didn’t look to the sides at the ivy-covered walls. You didn’t look at the ground. You stared straight ahead and you did your job and you ignored the little part of you that thought maybe there was some truth to what Minho had said.</p>
<p>There couldn’t be.</p>
<p>You shut the idea down with each footstep, each pounding footfall that propelled your farther and farther. In your mind, you could see Newt standing at the edge of the Box, the sun shining behind him, on the day you’d arrived. His lean figure had screamed authority. Safety.</p>
<p>And yet, you’d run that day. You’d run from the Box and from the boys and from the fear. Minho had been the one to tackle you to the ground. He’d pinned you there until Newt caught up. Newt had explained the very basics of the Glade while your body was flat against the ground, and, after a few minutes, he’d offered his hand to pull you up and you’d accepted. </p>
<p>You could still remember how your panicked mind had settled, just a little, as your hands briefly locked together like lost puzzles pieces. </p>
<p>Newt had been the first one to make you smile in the Glade. You couldn’t even remember what he’d said, exactly, only that he was giving you the tour and he’d made a dumb joke, stumbling over his words and looking at you earnestly, hoping you hadn’t noticed. You did, and that’s what had made the joke funny. Not funny enough to get a full laugh, not when you’d just found out that you were the only girl trapped in an enclosed area with a group of strange boys. But enough for you to exhale a little more air through your nose and crack the smallest of smiles.</p>
<p>Newt was the one you’d gone to when you realized you were meant to be a Runner. You’d bounced between jobs, spending a few days feeding animals as a Slicer, bustling around the kitchen with Frypan as a Cook, and annoying Clint and Jeff in the Med-jack tent. You’d liked your time as a Builder, with the physical labor and the sun on your skin. Those were the same reasons you’d liked working as a Track-hoe, with the added bonus of spending more time with Newt. But something was missing in each job. You craved adventure, excitement, freedom. </p>
<p>Newt hadn’t wanted you to do it. That was the first time you’d seen him angry. And afraid.</p>
<p>But Newt was still the one who’d convinced Minho to give you a shot after the two of you had had a deep conversation that bled from night into morning. You hadn’t just talked about the Maze. You’d talked about your hopes and your fears and your passions and your feelings. And, as the sun broke over the hammock you both lay in, you’d kissed.</p>
<p>Newt was the one you poured your heart out to. Newt was the one. He was always by your side.</p>
<p>You picked up the pace as your heart cracked against your ribs, reminding you with its steady beat Not - right - now. He’s - not - right - now. </p>
<p>Right now, back in the Glade, he was probably with Margaret. </p>
<p>You rounded a corner, going too fast, almost sliding on the stone floor.</p>
<p>They were probably in the garden.</p>
<p>A tangle of ivy caught on your arm and you ripped it off the wall as you sped past.</p>
<p>He was probably helping her weed the plants. You wondered if his hands were on hers, his hands that were supposed to be on you. You wondered if she liked his brown eyes as much as you did. You wondered if he was looking at her like he looked at you. Like he used to look at you.</p>
<p>You wouldn’t cry in the Maze. </p>
<p>You wouldn’t cry. </p>
<p>Because it wasn’t true.</p>
<p>Later that day, a map of your section of the Maze imprinted in your brain, you reached the doors with plenty of time to spare. You didn’t think you’d ever run at such a fast pace for so long. The only way to turn off your mind had been to go faster, to outrun every thought you had. You didn’t want to stop.</p>
<p>So you didn’t. You ran past the doors, where you were supposed to meet Minho, and headed directly for the Runner’s Hut. You heard Minho call your name as he emerged from the Maze. He trailed after you. You were already sitting down and drawing your section when he entered the hut.</p>
<p>“Y/N-”</p>
<p>“Can’t talk right now, Minho. I don’t want to forget anything.” You didn’t look at him. You were perched on the edge of your chair, ready to take flight as soon as you finished. Underneath the table, your legs were shaking. Sweat dried on your legs and your hands felt clammy.</p>
<p>You could feel Minho’s eyes on you. The silence in the hut was stifling. Pen flew over paper as you sketched a dead end.</p>
<p>You heard Minho clear his throat and you had just enough time to squeeze your eyes shut before he said, “I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s the truth, Y/N.”</p>
<p>You hated how his voice sounded, devoid of the teasing, playful lilt that was always present. It was always there, and now that it wasn’t, your heart was beating too fast and your palms were sweating and you finally managed to finish your drawing. You shot up, avoiding looking at Minho.</p>
<p>“I’ve gotta go,” you muttered.</p>
<p>You were trying to skirt around him to get to the door when he put a gentle hand on your shoulder.</p>
<p>“Y/N,” he said softly.</p>
<p>Something inside you snapped, and a wave of anger rushed through your limbs, a roaring fire inside your muscles that wanted you to push him away and sprint back into the Maze, where you could run and no one could find you.</p>
<p>Barely tempering your rage, you pulled away from Minho. “You don’t know anything!” you snarled. “Stop lying to me!”</p>
<p>A flash of hurt lit up Minho’s eyes. He was frowning, and his lips parted to say something, but you beat him to it. </p>
<p>“Newt would never do that. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you say anything like that again, I’ll-” You cut yourself off. You’d what? You’d kick his ass? You’d leave him in the Maze? You’d tattle? “Just–Just leave me alone.” You spun around before he saw your eyes get wet with heavy tears.</p>
<p>You wouldn’t cry in the Glade. </p>
<p>You wouldn’t cry.</p>
<p>Because it still wasn’t true.</p>
<p>By the time you reached the kitchen, your eyes were completely dry and you’d managed to plaster a fake smile on your face. Gladers passed you, some holding dinner, others merely chatting, and you exchanged pleasantries.</p>
<p>“Hey, Y/N, hot day in the Maze today?”</p>
<p>“Y/N, have you seen Newt? Or Clint?”</p>
<p>“Y/N, if you ever wanna help out as a Builder, we could use you.”</p>
<p>“Here, Y/N, have a sandwich.”</p>
<p>You didn’t really care what anyone had to say except for that last person.</p>
<p>You smiled at Frypan and accepted the plate. “Thanks. I’ve been looking forward to this for the past two hours.” You paused in front of him. “Have you seen Newt?”</p>
<p>The smile on his face faltered. Frypan shook his head. “No…Have you talked to Minho?”</p>
<p>You recoiled. What did he know? You saw Minho walking closer, stopping to talk to a group of boys, all of them looking over at you. Did everyone know? Even Chuck, who stared up at Minho like he was some kind of hero?</p>
<p>You felt eyes all over your skin. They were piercing. They were pitiful. They were wrong. You shoved the plate back into Frypan’s hands and turned around without another word. You took a wide arc around Minho’s group, giving all of them a hard glare when it looked like they might try to stop you.</p>
<p>Rage and insecurity coiled in your stomach. If Newt was more than enough for you, weren’t you also more than enough for him? Why did everyone think he’d leave you so easily? You’d hardly seen him the past few days, but that didn’t erase the weeks spent by each other’s sides. That didn’t erase the first time he’d looked in your eyes and said, “I love you,” and then kissed you like his life depended on it.</p>
<p>Your mind whirled, so you gave up trying to pick a destination to walk to and just let your feet go. They carried you over rocks and roots and into the woods, and they stopped to let you know that it was time to sit on the log in front of you. You complied. In the dwindling daylight, you stared at your knees and tried to breathe.</p>
<p>Minutes passed. Your thoughts melted away. Birds tweeted in the trees, the last calls of the day. Fireflies began to light up around you.</p>
<p>You needed answers. You needed to talk to Newt. With renewed purpose, you rose, ready to look through every poorly-made building in the Glade until you found him.</p>
<p>A stick cracked to your left. It was hard to see in the dark, especially with the leaves overhead and the thick tree trunks around you, but there was a flash of color among the blackness.</p>
<p>You crept closer. Your muscles tensed, ready to leap into fight or flight mode, depending on what was in the woods with you. Leaning around a tree, you saw red.</p>
<p>Red hair. </p>
<p>Margaret. </p>
<p>And pressed against her body, holding her close, so close, too close, far too close, was Newt. And their lips were together and their bodies moved in rhythm and you gasped and they turned to look at you and your instincts went into overdrive and you ran away to the sound of Newt’s voice calling out for you.</p>
<p>You wouldn’t cry in the woods.</p>
<p>But you were crying.</p>
<p>Because it was true.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my writing, I go by the same name (JustAnObsessedFangirl) on Tumblr. I write for The Maze Runner, Harry Potter, Teen Wolf, and (kind of) The Walking Dead. I'd love to hear any feedback or requests that you might have :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tears blurred your vision as you stumbled through the woods. Newt’s voice grew fainter, the sound of your name leaving his lips turning into grumbled curses as he tried to follow.</p><p>You knew he wouldn’t be able to. You’d thought you’d known everything about Newt. The way his snores sounded in the early morning, the way the muscles of his back felt when you gave him a massage after a hard day, the way he smiled and laughed even at your bad jokes, the way he always wanted to help. He always wanted to help! Any of your problems, he was right there for you, solid as a rock.</p><p>Tree branches scratched your arms. You ran on.</p><p>You hadn’t known all of Newt. If you had, he wouldn’t have been kissing the Greenie.</p><p>Your lungs burned as you picked up the pace. The crunch of your sneakers against the dirt fueled you. You wanted to kick something. A tree wasn’t good enough. You wanted to push the whole damn earth. </p><p>Newt wouldn’t catch you. He couldn’t catch you. You didn’t know him, not anymore, but you knew that.</p><p>You burst from the trees into the quiet of the Glade at night. Boys slept in hammocks mere feet from where you passed. Some stirred, but none woke up, so you continued running, heading for the walls.</p><p>In your mind, Newt and Margaret kissing played on repeat. He’d had her pressed against a tree. How many times had he done that with you? Over 10? Over 20?</p><p>How many times had he done that with her?</p><p>You could see her hands running through Newt’s hair. Your breath caught in your throat, a sob threatened to break free, and you ran faster, until the only way you could breath was with a shuddering inhale.</p><p>Panting felt good. You ran harder, sprinting to the section of the wall where names littered the surface.</p><p>You slowed to a stop in front of it. Your whole body felt alive in the cool air. Sweat clung to your skin. Your chest heaved. You were crying harder, so hard you couldn’t read the names, so hard you couldn’t even see the names.</p><p>His name was to the left of yours. The image of it interspersed the video in your mind of Newt and Margaret. </p><p>You wanted it out of your head. You wanted him out of your head.</p><p>Rubbing at your eyes until you could see, you scanned the wall, immediately finding Newt’s name. There was your name, right next to his, and there was Margaret’s, sprawling over both of them.</p><p>The stone was rough under your trembling hand. You traced the letters of your name. You could imagine the heft of the knife, the feel of Newt’s body so close to yours as you carved.</p><p>Your fingers stilled as they reached the last letter of your name. Like a spider, they crept to Newt’s, lingering on the N. Then you pulled your hand away. You took a step back from the wall.</p><p>When you looked at it again, you didn’t see Newt’s name, or Margaret’s, or your own. You saw Minho. Frypan. Chuck. Alby. You saw the crossed off names.</p><p>Stepping toward the wall, you laid a hand on “Marc,” which was written in blocky letters and had one strong horizontal line running through it.</p><p>He’d died before you came to the Glade. You’d never known him, never asked about him. You’d never heard anyone mention him.</p><p>But he’d been here. He’d been in the Glade, maybe even in that very spot where your own two feet held you up now. He must have had friends. Was he a Runner who’d had an unlucky meeting with a Griever? A Builder who’d taken a hard fall off a roof? A sad, scared boy who’d jumped?</p><p>There was so much more to this place than Newt. A ferocity you’d never felt before gripped your heart.</p><p>“I’m going to get out,” you said, your voice a whisper. “We’re all going to get out.”</p><p>That night, you slept in the room you shared with Newt, after you piled all of his things outside the door. He didn’t try to come in. Briefly, you wondered if he was with Margaret, but then you let that thought slip away. You kept the anger and the resentment and the frustration, and you let it turn into determination. Over and over in your mind, you saw yourself running the Maze. You could map every part of your section in your head, all of the twists and turns and vines and dead ends.</p><p>You were up before the sun the next morning, not entirely sure if you’d ever slept. You beat Minho to the doors.</p><p>When he trotted over, you saw worry in his eyes. Pity.</p><p>“Ready to run?” you asked before he could say anything.</p><p>The doors rumbled. Rock walls ground against rock floor. Minho raised his voice so you could hear him say, “Always!” His cocky attitude just barely overshadowed his apprehension.</p><p>You slipped through the narrow opening, immediately setting off at a brisk pace. Minho loped easily to your side. </p><p>“Are you okay, Y/N?”</p><p>“Never better.”</p><p>Newt’s hands were running along her sides.</p><p>You sped up, gritting your teeth. The ground flew beneath you.</p><p>“You seem a little…off,” Minho said. “I’m sorry for pushing it yesterday, we just want-”</p><p>“I just want to get out of this shucking maze! So slim it and get to work.” With that, you darted to the right, down an all too familiar path. Minho’s footsteps grew fainter until, after a left, two rights, and another left, you finally felt alone.</p><p>You scrutinized every wall you passed. Sometimes you’d stop to peer through the ivy that dripped over the stone, searching for anything underneath that would give you answers.</p><p>Why were trapped here? How would you get out? Why couldn’t you remember your life before this? Why did Newt lie about loving you?</p><p>Not the last question.</p><p>You ran from the last question. When you felt those cursed images start to form in your mind, your legs went into overdrive and carried you as far as they had to go until your thoughts were under control.</p><p>Newt didn’t matter. Margaret didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out.</p><p>You flew through your section. As you were nearing the doors, you came to an abrupt stop, doing a double-take at the unfamiliar path that branched off from the road you were on. It was identical to every other section of the Maze, save for the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be there. You’d plotted this map in your head hundreds of times, on paper tens of times, and that wall was supposed to be smooth, not gaping open to another path.</p><p>Overhead, the sky was darkening. Soon, the doors would rumble shut for the night. You didn’t know where this path would lead or how long it would take to get there.</p><p>But it could have been your only chance, so you turned away from the Glade and hurried into the unknown.</p><p>Every hair on your body stood up straight. Your muscles were tensed for action, ready to flee. Ready to fight. Your breathing had never seemed as loud as it did then when you were trying to keep your ears alert.</p><p>The smell of the passage was the same as the others: dank and slightly musty. It twisted and turned like the others. The ivy curled on the walls the same as the others.</p><p>That should have settled your nerves, but your shadow grew longer and longer, and still the corridor stretched on. </p><p>The sound of stone on stone filled the air.</p><p>Your heart stopped. Your long stride faltered, fear numbing your feet, and then you were on the ground, and you scrambling to get back up, get to the entrance. Your knees were warm with blood as you stood, looking back the way you’d come.</p><p>Ten minutes. It would take at least ten minutes to go all the way back.</p><p>You turned in the other direction and shot down it. No time to scan the walls for clues. No time, no time, no time. No time to think, barely enough time to react. There was a corner, and it was so far away but it was your only option, your only chance, and when you got there you sprinted around it and your path opened onto a new one.</p><p>You froze for all of one second before turning to your left at the sound of your name. There was the exit, there was the Glade, there were the boys. Newt was limping to the wall, calling out for you. In a flash, Minho was dragging him back, away from the block of stone that was inching to a close. You saw others, but their faces blurred as you ran.</p><p>It felt like you were moving in slow motion. Every step seemed like you were running through water. The air was a heavy, solid force designed to hold you back, slow you down, trap you in. You weren’t going to make it. You weren’t going to make it. You weren’t going to-</p><p>Pressing your back against the rock, you shimmied across, the door inches away from your chest. Hands gripped your arm and then you were through.</p><p>You gulped greedy breaths of air. Your lungs were tight. Something was squeezing your chest. In your racing mind, you thought maybe the wall actually had crushed you to death, and you were getting one last moment with the Gladers before you woke up in Hell.</p><p>Then you blinked and saw a body hugging you. You felt the person’s tears against your shoulder. You felt his lean frame wrapped around yours in a way that was so familiar, so much like home, that you wanted to melt into him.</p><p>You pushed Newt away.</p><p>“Y/N, I-”</p><p>You cut him off, turning to Minho. “There was a new path. I saw it. I went down it.” </p><p>Minho’s gaze turned intense. His eyes dropped to your knees, where blood stained the skin. “We’ll fix that up while we map.”</p><p>A crescendo of questions rose from the boys around you. It was chaos; you couldn’t pick out a single sentence.</p><p>“Slim it!” Newt shouted. You bent and examined your knees, refusing to look at him. “We’ll hold a meeting tomorrow, once we have enough information. But until then, I don’t want anyone bothering Y/N! D'you slintheads understand?”</p><p>You probed the loose skin that flapped over your scrapes. The Gladers muttered agreements. A few of them gave you slaps on the back or pats on the shoulder before dispersing, murmuring that they were happy you were okay and good job and there was a sandwich with your name on it at the kitchen. You straightened up and gave Frypan a smile for that last one.</p><p>“Can you get medical supplies and meet me at the hut?” you asked Minho. Newt stood in front of you, silent. Minho looked to you, then Newt, then back at you before he nodded.</p><p>You watched him jog away. You tried to steel yourself, to calm your racing heart. Adrenaline still pumped through you. The feel of the wind was still in your hair. Part of you was still in the Maze, doomed to the Grievers. </p><p>“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Newt said, his voice low, the complete opposite of the authority figure he’d just been. His accent was strong like it always was when he got emotional. </p><p>I love you, he used to say. He used to say, I love you. </p><p>“I got carried away. That’s a stupid klunking excuse, but I just-” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. </p><p>You used to run your hands through his hair. Margaret ran her hands through his hair.</p><p>“She’s the second girl I’ve ever seen. At least, the second girl I can remember seeing. I didn’t know how to act and I let things go too far. I didn’t mean to, Y/N, I swear, I didn’t. I don’t love her.”</p><p>You wanted to hear him say it. You wanted to hear him say he still loved you.</p><p>But you couldn’t let him. Because then you’d go back to him, and you’d get distracted, and you’d spend eternity still in the Maze, still insecure, afraid that every time that Box came up, Newt would be looking for an opportunity. Because you still loved him but this wasn’t the place for love, especially not with him.</p><p>So instead, you looked at where Minho had been and you spoke before Newt could. “I’m around over 40 boys every single day in here.” Your voice was hard. “And I’ve never cheated on you.”</p><p>“Y/N-” His voice cracked. </p><p>You didn’t let him finish. “Don’t talk to me, Newt. I don’t want to be around you. I don’t want to see you.” I want to get out of this Maze, you thought, I want to know why you would do this to me, but you said, “I hate you.”</p><p>When you looked at him, his face was wet with tears. You wanted to cry. You wanted to hold him or hit him or run away from him.</p><p>Instead, you turned back away. You walked to the Runner’s Hut. You drew a map while Minho bandaged your knees.</p><p>You were going to get out of the Maze.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my writing, I go by the same name (JustAnObsessedFangirl) on Tumblr. I write for The Maze Runner, Harry Potter, Teen Wolf, and (kind of) The Walking Dead. I'd love to hear any feedback or requests that you might have :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Find anything new?”</p><p>You slowed to a stop as you came out of the Maze. Swiping at the sweat on your forehead, you shook your head at Minho. Your feet ached, your calves burned, and all you wanted to do was sit down, but you had to play your part in the conversation. “The new Greenie came up today, right?”</p><p>Minho nodded. It was strange to see him at this time of day, near sunset, not dirty from hours of running. It had been his day off, so he was clean and refreshed and exactly the opposite of you.</p><p>“How is he?” you asked. “Or she?” You felt your chest tighten, so slight it was almost unnoticeable. Is the Greenie another Margaret? Your heart thumped painfully against your ribs. Another Newt?</p><p>A month wasn’t enough time to adjust to your new reality. A reality where you didn’t kiss Newt, didn’t touch Newt, didn’t even talk to Newt. A reality where you avoided the only other girl in the Glade because every time you saw her you could imagine her lips on his.</p><p>You needed to move. You started for the Runner’s Hut, Minho matching your easy jog.</p><p>“He tried to run into the Maze.”</p><p>You laughed. “Maybe he’ll replace you.”</p><p>Minho snorted. “He’s a Slopper sure.”</p><p>You reached the Hut with a smile on your face. “Does he know his name?” As you opened the door, you glanced back to see Minho shake his head. “He’ll get it eventually. Where is he now?”</p><p>Minho hesitated. When he finally spoke, his words were quick, like he was hoping they wouldn’t stick. “With Newt.”</p><p>You busied yourself getting paper and a pencil, trying to ignore the way your insides froze at the sound of his name.</p><p>“But he’ll be at the bonfire tonight. The Greenie. Not Newt. Newt doesn’t usually go anymore…” Minho trailed off.</p><p>Unspoken words hung in the air like a bad smell. He doesn’t go anymore because he’s afraid you’ll be there. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that; it was exactly why you didn’t go either.</p><p>With a shrug, you sat down. Relief flooded your legs. “I think I’m gonna call it a night after this. Maybe I’ll meet the Greenie tomorrow.” You started mapping the section of the Maze you ran that day.</p><p>Minho sat down next to you. “You haven’t been to a bonfire in a while.”</p><p>You shrugged again.</p><p>“It’ll be fun.” He paused. “You can still have fun, you know.”</p><p>Your teeth clenched. The next couple of lines you drew were dark, and you pressed the pencil tip so hard it almost snapped. “I don’t have time for that.”</p><p>Minho leaned back in his chair. “Yes, you do, Y/N, you just don’t want to. I know you want to get out, but you need to relax sometimes too.” He stood up, walking behind you. “Your shoulders aren’t supposed to be up by your ears!” He put his hands on your shoulders and gave them a light squeeze.</p><p>You managed a small smile. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until Minho brought it up, but now, with his warm touch, you could feel how tight you were. Everything about you was coiled, ready to spring up and bolt if you needed to.</p><p>“There you go,” Minho said, rubbing your shoulders. “Much better. You have a neck again.”</p><p>You spun around and jabbed his side. Minho danced out of the way, cackling. He strode to the door, leaving you and your map. </p><p>“I’ll see you at the bonfire, Y/N!” he called over his shoulder as he ducked out.</p><p>Before you could think of all of the reasons why you shouldn’t go, Newt and Margaret and sleep and escape, you heard yourself agree.</p><p>The Runner’s Hut was silent after Minho left. You found yourself mapping faster, a small, hidden part of you eager to be with people, mingling around the fire, maybe indulging in a few sips of Gally’s moonshine. A while later, you were done drawing the path you took that day. You locked your map in the trunk with the others. For a few seconds, you couldn’t walk away. You lingered in the Hut, thinking of the maps, thinking of the Maze, thinking, thinking, thinking. Flames of anger licked at the edge of your mind. There was still so much to do. You were about to crack open the trunk again to see if you could piece anything together when you heard the faint roar of the Gladers at the bonfire. </p><p>Swallowing your feelings, you spun on your heel and left the Runner’s Hut.</p><p>Night had come while you were inside. A sliver of moon hung in the sky, thousands and thousands of stars surrounding it. You followed the smoky scent to the bonfire. Some boys sat on logs around it, chatting, but a large group was off to the side, forming a ring so thick you couldn’t see what was going on in the center. Their voices fought, shouts against cheers against insults. You heard, “Get him!” and “Shank!” and “Klunk!” and other, more barbaric jeers.</p><p>You spotted the back of Minho’s head and weaved your way around bodies as you approached him. When you got there, you jabbed a finger into his side, making him jump.</p><p>“You shank-” he whirled. A smile broke on his face when he saw you.</p><p>You mustered up the courage to smile back, despite the anxiety chewing at your nerves. Your eyes darted from Minho to the surrounding boys, hoping not to see Newt or Margaret, while also praying that you would see them, hopefully separate from each other, hopefully sad. Was that a flash of her hair, glowing red in the light of the fire?</p><p>Before you could get a better look, Minho looped an arm around your shoulder and steered you to his side. A couple of boys were still in front of you, blocking your way. “The Greenie’s in there with Gally!” Minho yelled over the noise. He forced himself between the pair in front of you, dragging you along.</p><p>“Sorry,” you called, ducking around elbows and slipping past long legs. When you finally faced the center of the circle, you were met with a scene of violence.</p><p>Gally’s hands were curled into meaty fists, the muscles of his arms on full display. His right hand was bloody, but you weren’t sure if it was his, because, scrambling up from the ground in front of Gally, was a bleeding boy you didn’t recognize. He had short brown hair and a split lip. Where Gally was strong the way Builders are, all mass and height and power, the Greenie was lean muscle, built for speed.</p><p>Gally lunged. The Greenie ducked out of the way in the nick of time, giving Gally a swift push in the side that sent him sprawling to the ground. The Greenie had time for a smile, a few seconds to relish in the wild applause, and then Gally, on his back in the dirt, delivered a sharp kick to the Greenie’s legs. The Greenie went down, his head slamming to the ground.</p><p>“Cheap shot,” you muttered to Minho. </p><p>Minho’s eyes were alight with excitement. “No one’s knocked Gally down for at least the past three bonfires.”</p><p>“Maybe the Greenie won’t be a Slopper after all.” You kept your eyes on the new boy. He was lifting his head, his lips moving, but you were too far and the crowd was too loud for you to hear anything. “What’s he saying?”</p><p>Around you, the boys were quieting as the Greenie stood.</p><p>“Thomas!” the Greenie said. “My name is Thomas!”</p><p>There was a beat of silence. Then, from across the circle, Alby pointed at the Greenie and yelled, “Thomas!”</p><p>The people around you took it up as though it was a war cry. “Thomas!” they shouted. “Thomas!” Just like that, the circle broke, a mob converging on Thomas to pat his back and shake his hand and let him know that he was one of you.</p><p>The swarm of people lasted only a few minutes, but the connection you felt with the other Gladers seemed like it would exist forever. You were one, welcoming Thomas into the sea. Minho was on your right and a Slicer, maybe Winston, was on your left, and in front of you was Clint holding two glasses of moonshine, and little Chuck was somewhere amongst you all, his high voice sounding a cheer that could be heard above the deeper tones of the other boys. For those few seconds, you were unified.</p><p>Eventually, people trickled away. Some went to the fire, others to the food, others to the drinks. Gally had disappeared, maybe going into hiding to nurse his wounded ego. Still standing where his triumph had taken place was Thomas, and next to him, you, Minho, and Chuck lingered.</p><p>“I’m Y/N,” you said. Now that you were close to Thomas, you could see he had brown eyes and a few moles dotted across his cheeks. He gave you a shy smile and nodded.</p><p>“I’m Thomas. In case you missed it.”</p><p>Chuck giggled. His face was red and his smile huge. “How could anyone miss that? I bet we woke all the Grievers!”</p><p>In an instant, the atmosphere shifted from cheerful to tense. You and Minho glared at Chuck. Blood drained from the boy’s face. He clapped his hands over his mouth.</p><p>“What’s a Griever? People keep mentioning them but they won’t explain,” Thomas said. He waited, but neither you nor Minho said a word. “No one answers any questions here.”</p><p>It’s for your own good, you thought, it’s safer this way. Sometimes you wished you didn’t know about Grievers. They were walking nightmares, armed with hundreds of different, painful ways to kill someone. It wasn’t enough that you had to risk running into them in the Maze. They infiltrated your dreams. How many nights had you awoken in Newt’s arms after seeing him get torn apart over and over again? Even now, when your relationship with him was so messy, you wished you could scourge that image from your mind. You wished you could forget about the Grievers.</p><p>But that would make you less aware in the Maze. It might even make you think that staying in the Glade was the right thing to do. So, as a Runner, it was your duty to remember the Grievers. To remember the danger. And, as you looked at Chuck, the youngest boy in the Glade, and Thomas, who was still new enough not to be stripped of his innocence, you recognized that it was also your duty to protect them from that knowledge. </p><p>“It was nice meeting you, Thomas.” You began walking away. Minho nodded at Thomas and joined you.</p><p>From behind, you heard Chuck’s voice, eager for redemption. “You should hang out with us on your next day off, Y/N!”</p><p>As you were turning around to give Chuck and Thomas a smile and an apology (like hell you were taking a day off any time soon) someone else spoke up.</p><p>“That’s a good idea.” Newt was approaching the group. He walked slowly, hesitantly. His shoulders were slumped like he was tired, and there was something about his face that seemed different.</p><p>You froze.</p><p>“I was looking at the schedule yesterday,” Newt continued. He wouldn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the ground, his features hardly visible in the dim light. Half of you wanted to see his eyes, while the other half wanted him to shut up and leave you alone. “You were supposed to rest three days ago.”</p><p>Your heart ached at his accent. You gritted your teeth and steeled yourself. “I wasn’t tired.” This was the first time you’d spoken since the time you’d rejected his apology. Pretty weak apology, you thought, remembering his excuse of never seeing another girl and getting “caught up”. In an instant, unresolved rage rushed through your body. You squeezed your fists. You needed to keep this in check. Not in front of the Greenie. Not in front of Chuck and Minho. Not at the bonfire.</p><p>“Minho, you know the protocol. She’ll get injured if you let her keep doing this.” Forgotten notes of protectiveness seeped into Newt’s voice. He couldn’t act like this anymore; not after what he’d done.</p><p>You opened your mouth.</p><p>Minho beat you. “I know.” He looked down at you regretfully. “I’m the Keeper. You need to listen to me if you want to keep your job. And if I want to keep mine.”</p><p>You stared at him, lips pursed together. Curses and insults bubbled in your mouth.</p><p>“You’re taking tomorrow off,” he said.</p><p>“I can’t take tomorrow off! I’m supposed to cover Hank’s section!”</p><p>Minho frowned. You wouldn’t look at Newt. You refused to. </p><p>“Fine. After tomorrow you’re taking a day off.” Minho’s tone was firm.</p><p>You wanted to argue. You wanted to turn on Newt and tell him off. You wanted to shake some sense into these people. Didn’t they understand how important this was?</p><p>“It’ll be fun, Y/N. You’ll like hanging out with us,” Chuck piped up. He sounded genuinely excited, if a little afraid that you’d start yelling at him. Next to him, Thomas stood silently, watching with intelligent brown eyes.</p><p>You deflated in a long exhale. “Fine.” You spat the word like it was poison. You gave Minho one last betrayed look, then walked away without a goodbye. Not to Thomas or Chuck, and definitely not to Newt.</p><p>The bonfire was over.</p><p>You ran angry the next day. With sharp eyes, you scanned every stone on the walls and ground, every patch of dirt, every tangle of vines. Even though you were in a different section, it was all still the same. There was nothing out of the ordinary. You weren’t expecting a glowing exit sign, but you did want something. This couldn’t be a puzzle without a solution.</p><p>At one point during the day, when the sun was still high overhead, you thought you heard a scream. It was faint, but it made you stop in your tracks, hold your breath, and wait to hear it again. After nearly a minute had passed with no new noises, you continued running.</p><p>Was the scream a sign? Should you try to run towards it? What if it wasn’t a scream, but the screech of metal as a new door opened?</p><p>Your legs moved faster. You searched every passage. Every nook and cranny and every dead end. And you found nothing.</p><p>You arrived back at the Glade early, sweaty and sore and disappointed. You’d spent the last hour or so trying to tamp down your frustration at your forced rest day tomorrow. You were so angry that you almost ignored Minho when you saw him in the Runner’s Hut. The look on his face made you pause.</p><p>“What happened?” you asked.</p><p>He was sitting, maps spread in front of him. His eyebrows were scrunched in worry, his mouth twisted in a frown. All of the playfulness had left his expression. Behind you, the sound of the door opening made you turn. Alby walked in. You whipped around to face Minho again as you caught sight of Newt trailing behind your leader.</p><p>Just that slight glimpse of him was enough to confirm what you’d thought at the bonfire last night: he was thinner, more somber looking. There were dark circles under his eyes. For a brief second, you let yourself wonder where he was sleeping. Was Margaret not as comfortable to sleep next to as you were? Did he miss the bed you’d shared? Did he miss you?</p><p>Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts. “Ben got stung.”</p><p>You blinked. “During the day? How?”</p><p>Alby and Newt took seats at the table, the latter boy choosing the spot farthest away from where you stood. Alby was the one who answered you. “We don’t know.”</p><p>You pulled out a chair and sat. Your hands felt numb. Beneath the table, your legs shook. “Is he still…” you trailed off.</p><p>Alby nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “He’s alive in the Slammer. Some Builders are keeping guard.”</p><p>Your wide eyes prompted Minho to add, somewhat reluctantly, “He tried to kill Thomas.”</p><p>Icy dread flooded your lungs. Your stomach was in your heart, your heart was gone, because instead of a steady pounding you just felt sick. </p><p>You knew Ben. You’d ran with him and laughed with him and lived in this stupid shucking Glade with him, and now, because of a Griever and an unlucky day, he was someone else.</p><p>“Y/N-” Newt started, his voice soft.</p><p>“Is Thomas okay?” you interrupted. After Minho nodded, you asked, “When is Ben getting banished?” You looked from Minho to Alby, ignoring Newt with every fiber of your being.</p><p>“Tonight. Soon,” was Alby’s reply.</p><p>You nodded. Clenching and unclenching your hands, you made the numbness go away, replaced with jittery energy. “We’ll have to look in the Maze for any clues tomorrow. Did Ben say where it happened?” You slid one of the maps in front of Minho toward you. “I’ll check out his section tomorrow, we can have someone else cover mine, and-”</p><p>“You’re not going, Y/N.” Minho’s voice was hard. When you looked up at him, his face was like stone.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You still need to rest. This doesn’t change that.”</p><p>You looked around incredulously. One of them had to see how ridiculous this was. Alby stared back at you, unrelenting. Newt’s eyes were softer. You felt your gaze stop on him. His brown eyes were deep pools of pleading. You could practically hear him in your ear, his accent thick, his words laced with care, as he told you you needed to take a day off.</p><p>You forced your eyes back on Minho. “How could this not change everything?” You struggled to keep from shouting. “I’m one of the best Runners! You need me out there.”</p><p>“You’re wearing yourself out, Y/N. You and I both know that,” Minho said.</p><p>Your muscles pulsed with soreness in response. You thought of how painful sleeping was, not just because you were alone but because your body never stopped throbbing, and even though every bone in your body ached with exhaustion, your mind could never quiet. “I’m fine,” you insisted.</p><p>“Minho and I are going to run Ben’s section,” Alby said.</p><p>“No offense, Alby, but-”</p><p>“Y/N, I think you should leave.” Alby’s tone was more serious than you’d ever heard.</p><p>You shook your head. “I still have to draw my map,” you said stubbornly.</p><p>Alby rose. “Then we’ll go to the Homestead.”</p><p>At his words, Minho and Newt stood up and made for the door, giving you sympathetic looks that you wanted to throw back in their faces. Minho had the gall to pat you on the shoulder. You glared at them.</p><p>As he stood in the door, waiting for Minho and Newt to leave, Alby said, in a kinder manner than before, “We’ll tell you everything when we get back tomorrow. We know how good you are. We can’t afford you getting an overuse injury.“ He stared you directly in your eyes and you saw the smallest shred of fear. "Not right now.”</p><p>And then he was gone and you were alone in the Runner’s Hut. The table was clean; you hadn’t noticed Minho take the maps. Moving as if in slow motion, you gathered pencil and paper and began to draw.</p><p>So much had happened in one month. How was that possible? You squeezed the pencil tighter, willing your hands to stop shaking. You thought you might cry. You thought you might rip apart the map in front of you. You thought you might shatter into pieces because everything was going wrong and you were no closer to getting out and now your friends were getting hurt and soon you would be even lonelier.</p><p>Time passed without you realizing. You must have sketched your section of the Maze five times. Every time you finished, you got another piece of paper. You needed to keep your hands busy. You needed to feel like you were doing something.</p><p>Outside, the walls began to rumble. You drew faster. Ben was probably at the entrance right now. Who was pushing him in? Was Ben crying? Was he begging? Was he so damaged from the Griever sting that he was still trying to attack his friends?</p><p>Your pencil ripped through the paper and you were drawing on the table and your face was wet and your breath was shaky. The pencil tip snapped. You flung it across the room and dropped your head in your hands and cried.</p><p>There wasn’t enough air. Or maybe you just had too many tears. There were tears for Newt and the kiss that felt like it’d happened so long ago, there were tears for Thomas and being attacked in a strange place, there were tears for Chuck for being so young, there were tears for Alby for having to act so old, there were tears for Minho and Ben and all of the other Runners who risked their sanity and their lives and sometimes didn’t get lucky.</p><p>You never heard the door open and close. You saw someone set a plate with a sandwich in front of you. You felt their arm settle across your shoulders. You smelled Newt and he smelled like home, and so you pushed away your shame and leaned into him.</p><p>He didn’t say anything. He just held you, and when you wrapped your arms around his waist, he let you hold him. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck, right by your ear. The ghost of his lips hovered a hair’s length from your skin.</p><p>Neither of you said a word.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my writing, I go by the same name (JustAnObsessedFangirl) on Tumblr. I write for The Maze Runner, Harry Potter, Teen Wolf, and (kind of) The Walking Dead. I'd love to hear any feedback or requests that you might have :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You’d slept through the night. For the first time in weeks, you’d slept through the night, spending hours in a peaceful, dreamless slumber. As you opened your eyes, you felt the last wisps of sleep slide languidly off your body and settle in the recesses of your mind, content to wait until called upon.</p><p>Your bed was warmer than usual. Minho must have found you another blanket; the one under your cheek was gray. You didn’t have any gray blankets.</p><p>You blinked. The blanket underneath you shifted. Jerking away, heart racing, you frantically rubbed your eyes. When you opened them again, you saw the same thing: a waking Newt, leaning against the back of a chair in the Runner’s Hut, his arms open where you’d just been nestled into him.</p><p>Brown eyes blinked slowly at you. His lips formed a smile you’d seen so many times before, the one he always had when the morning sun hit the two of you as you stirred to consciousness in your bed. It was slow and relaxed and loving.</p><p>A dark blush rose on your cheeks. You stood up and everything that had been peaceful about the moment snapped away. You were back in reality.</p><p>I don’t love him anymore. I don’t.</p><p>You had to turn away to stop yourself from kissing him. “I have to go, I’m probably already late for…” you trailed off.</p><p>Newt, thankfully, didn’t mention how today was your rest day. Instead, he nodded. “I have to go too.” He rose, running a hand through his hair. “But if you’re not too busy, we could always use help in the Gardens.” He seemed so sheepish standing there in front of you, a pale pink creeping up his neck.</p><p>You were sure your face was red. You’d slept with him before, but that was when you were together, not in this strange purgatory. Everything was too intimate just then, the maps on the table, the untouched sandwich, Newt’s messy bed-head - they all served as reminders of the night before. The night that shouldn’t have happened.</p><p>“Um, maybe,” you replied. Then you turned your back on him and fled through the door. The four steps it took felt like they went on for years. You ran.</p><p>On autopilot, your feet led you to the Kitchen. A few boys were finishing breakfast at the tables, but the sun was already high in the sky, so most of the Gladers were out working.</p><p>“There’s my favorite Runner!” Frypan crowed. He was stirring a pot and wearing a broad grin.</p><p>You made your way over to him, managing a tight-lipped smile. Your mind was still fuzzy. The parts of your body that had been touching Newt yearned to feel him again, to fall back asleep with him, to feel safe.</p><p>“Slept in today, huh?” Frypan grabbed a nearby bowl and scooped a ladleful of oatmeal into it. With a flourish, he pulled a spoon out of his stained apron and stuck it in the oatmeal. “Don’t give me that look, it’s clean.”</p><p>You accepted the bowl hesitantly, pulled the spoon out, inspected it, then took a small bite of oatmeal. Cinnamon and brown sugar danced across your tongue. When you smiled at Frypan this time, it was almost natural. With every second that passed, you grew farther and farther from the Runner’s Hut. You could feel your shoulders already tensing under the heavy burden of stress. “Did Minho and Alby leave yet?”</p><p>Frypan nodded. “Crack of dawn.”</p><p>You took a bite, swallowing your resentment over not going with them. Another question rolled around in your head. “Were you there last night? When they put Ben – when they banished him?”</p><p>Frypan stirred the oatmeal. His stare was focused on it, his brow heavy over his eyes. “Yes.” Another stir. “It was the right thing to do. Alby said so. Everyone agreed.”</p><p>The oatmeal didn’t seem as appetizing anymore, but when Frypan leveled his gaze on you, you took a bite, if only so you’d have more time to think about what to say. “It was right. He tried to kill Thomas.” Your stomach churned.</p><p>Nodding, Frypan stepped away from the pot. “Speaking of Thomas,” Frypan wiped his hands on his apron and smiled, “he and Chuck came by looking for you. Something about how you promised to spend the day with them? Chuck seemed pretty excited.”</p><p>You huffed out a laugh. “I bet. Do you know where they went?”</p><p>“They’re working in the Gardens today.”</p><p>You couldn’t stop yourself from muttering, “Of course they are.”</p><p>Frypan ignored you. “You better get a move on unless you want to help me wash all the dishes.”</p><p>For a second you almost said you would, but in your mind’s eye you could still see the earnestness on Chuck’s face at the bonfire, and you could still see Newt. You shook your head and scarfed down the last bites of oatmeal. “You’re on your own, Fry.” Shoving the bowl into his hands, you darted away to the sound of his laughter.</p><p>On your way to the Gardens, you passed a few Gladers. Exchanging greetings and idle chat about the weather helped delay your arrival, but all too soon you found yourself standing before rows of crops, scanning the area for Chuck and Thomas and, secretly, Newt. </p><p>Chuck saw you first. “Y/N!” he called from the tomato plants. He was waving his hands. Thomas was next to him, holding a half-full basket of tomatoes that were almost as red as his cheeks.</p><p>“She heard you, Chuck,” you heard Thomas mumble as you approached them.</p><p>Chuck paid no attention to the older boy. “I knew you’d come! Thomas wasn’t sure, but I knew. Thomas said you might have better things to do but I said that you mainly just run in the Maze all the time, so don’t even know what you would do on a day off. Oh, Thomas, that’s a good tomato, put it in the basket. How long has it been since your last day off, Y/N? A long time, right? I told Thomas I couldn’t even remember your last day off, so maybe it was before I came.”</p><p>You inspected a tomato, trying to keep your face neutral. “Not too long.” Not long enough. “Think this one’s good, Thomas?” </p><p>“I’m not much of a gardener.” He leaned in anyway. “It looks good enough to me.” Thomas held out the basket.</p><p>Chuck moved closer, mimicking Thomas’s actions. “Yup, looks good to me too. I say put it in the basket.”</p><p>You smiled and complied. “Thanks, Chuck.” The three of you moved down the row, passing over a few plants that bore only unripe tomatoes. “So, you don’t think you’ll be a Gardener?” Scanning Thomas, you said, “You could be a Track-Hoe, you look strong enough for it.”</p><p>Thomas quickly turned away from you, grabbing a tomato and thoroughly examining it, avoiding your eyes like the plague. Chuck giggled, only getting louder when Thomas shot him a glare. “No, I, uh…” He took a deep breath. “What’s it like being a Runner?” he finally asked, still staring at the tomato.</p><p>You plucked the vegetable from his hand. “You want to be a Runner?”</p><p>Thomas met your gaze. There was some nervousness in his brown eyes, but there was also fire. Fire you’d seen in Minho’s eyes before heading into the Maze. Fire you’d seen in Alby’s eyes during a meeting. Fire you’d seen in Newt’s eyes when he looked at you. </p><p>Passion. Determination.</p><p>“I need to be a Runner.” He said it like a fact, like it was an undeniable truth of the universe.</p><p>You felt trapped in his stare until Chuck took the basket and nudged your side. Dropping the tomato in, you shook yourself and began walking down the row again. “You’ll have to talk to Minho about that, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. No Greenies in the Maze.”</p><p>Thomas trotted to your side. “How’d you become a Runner?”</p><p>You plucked a ripe tomato and handed it to Chuck, remembering the night you’d told Newt you needed to be a Runner.</p><p>No, he’d said immediately. Please, love. It’s dangerous. We can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.</p><p>He’d begged you. Overhead, the stars had twinkled like nothing was amiss, and in the Glade, you and Newt had sat in a hammock, moving closer and closer as the sky darkened.</p><p>I need to, Newt. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know that’s what I’m supposed to do. Don’t you ever feel like that? Like you have some greater purpose?</p><p>He’d looked at you like you hung the moon. He’d looked at you like you were the sun. He’d looked at you and nodded and told you about how he hurt his leg. Somewhere in the middle of his story, your fingers had become intertwined. You’d stroked the back of his hand with your thumb as he bared his soul.</p><p>When he was done, you’d told him how afraid you’d been ever since you woke up in the Box. He’d understood. God, he’d understood so well. You’d let your guard slip enough to welcome him in, and he did the same, and you’d felt safe sitting next to him. With the sun peeking above the horizon, he’d leaned in, or maybe you’d leaned in, or maybe you’d both done it at the same time because the moment was perfect.</p><p>But you couldn’t tell Thomas all of that. You settled for saying, “I convinced Minho and…Newt. But it took a while.” You hoped the Greenie couldn’t hear your voice waver.</p><p>Somewhere in the background, Chuck was gabbing about the tomato he was holding, but your attention was focused on Thomas when he said, “You and Newt seemed pretty tense at the bonfire. Did something happen?”</p><p>Your tongue was too big for your mouth, too big to form a response. Turning into the next row, you parted your lips. Any words you might have had vanished as you came face to face with Margaret.</p><p>All of the blood drained from her cheeks. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, though she said nothing.</p><p>Standing opposite her, opposite the girl who’d helped break your heart, you felt a swirl of emotions so strong you were light-headed. Anger made your hands tremble. Sadness threatened to release the tears you’d held hostage for a month.</p><p>“Hey, Margaret!” Chuck’s childish enthusiasm toward her was a slap in the face. “I didn’t know you worked in the Gardens. This is Thomas, he’s the new Greenbean. I bet you’re happy people won’t call you that anymore! Well, sometimes they might, some people still call me a Greenie, but I think that’s just because I’m kind of young, and you’re not that young, so you should be fine. Not that you’re old! I’m not calling you old. You’re Y/N’s age, right, Y/N?”</p><p>You looked at Margaret, with her shock of fiery red hair pulled back in a ponytail, her large green eyes, the freckles that spotted her cheeks. She is my age. She’s a teenager. A dumb, foolish teenager. “Yeah. Same age.” Your voice was faint. Newt’s a dumb, foolish teenager, too. Dumb, foolish teenagers make mistakes.</p><p>Margaret’s eyes were as large as plates. You thought she might cry. “Y/N,” she choked out. “I’m so-”</p><p>You walked past her, anger fading into confusion. You saw Thomas at the edge of your vision, although he could have been lightyears away based on how disconnected you felt. Chuck was behind you, saying goodbye to Margaret. His words seemed like they were spoken underwater. “She’s what happened between Newt and me.” Your mouth was moving, but was that really your voice speaking? It rang in your ears, she’s what happened she’s what happened she’s what happened. </p><p>“Oh,” came Thomas’s reply. “I’m sorry for asking about it.”</p><p>You looked up, meeting his brown eyes. They were darker than Newt’s, and, although they looked at you softly, they didn’t make your heart flutter. “It’s okay,” you said. I don’t think it is, you thought, I don’t think I’m okay. You’d been so sure that you hated Newt. You’d repeated it like a prayer. I hate him, he hurt me, he did this on purpose. </p><p>But he apologized to you. He comforted you. He held you. Somewhere behind you, Margaret’s apology lingered unsaid.</p><p>“There are other things to focus on,” you said. You had to think about things that made sense. Fact: you needed to escape. Fact: you had to explore the Maze to do that. After a beat of silence, you added, “I’ll talk to Minho about you becoming a Runner. We need more people like you.”</p><p>“Really?” Hopefulness filled Thomas’s voice.</p><p>You nodded for Thomas. Your feet were on the ground, your hands were holding a basket, and you were going to be focused, and that was how everything would end up okay. You nodded again. That one was for you.</p><p>You spent the day picking fruits and vegetables from the Gardens, managing to avoid both Newt and Margaret. Whenever you thought you saw one of them through the rows, you would divert your group in the opposite direction. Thomas was smart enough to pick up on what you were doing, and either of you could easily distract Chuck to wander where you wanted.</p><p>By the end of the day, you were sweaty and hungry, but you hadn’t had to talk to Newt or Margaret. Now you just needed to see Minho come through the Maze doors, unharmed, and you’d be able to say that the day was almost good.</p><p>“Are they usually back by now?” Thomas asked.</p><p>You glanced up at the setting sun. “Minho’s smart. And fast.” It wasn’t an answer to his question; it was what you needed to say to reassure yourself.</p><p>Other Gladers were waiting at the door too. Newt had joined the group only a few minutes before. Luckily, Winston had struck up a conversation with him, but you could still feel the weight of his eyes on you. You shifted behind Thomas’s tall frame for cover and restrained yourself from looking back at Newt.</p><p>Now, though, as the sun dipped even lower in the sky, you stepped away from Thomas and Chuck, closer to the entrance. If you stared hard enough, you’d be able to see Minho and Alby rushing down the corridor. You were sure of it. Any second now. Any. Second.</p><p>The Maze began to growl. Massive stones shook as the door started to move. The rumbling of a great beast filled the air.</p><p>You edged closer to the door. The line of boys moved with you, Thomas by your side, Newt somewhere behind you, close enough that you could feel his presence. </p><p>“There!” You pointed. Coming around the corner was Minho, half-carrying a limping Alby.</p><p>All at once, the Glade was shouting. “Hurry!” “You can make it!” “Keep going!” “You got it, Minho! You got it, Alby!” “Run!” “Run!” “Run!”</p><p>Minho shuffled along faster. His face was screwed up with exertion. Opening his mouth in a yell, he took a great lunge forward, then another.</p><p>The doors were halfway closed.</p><p>You bolted to the Maze. You ran hard through the yelling of the Gladers and the grinding, heart-wrenching sound of the closing door. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Thomas running too, a lithe flash.</p><p>Then you were on the ground. A body was on top of you, holding you down, and you were flailing and kicking and trying to get back up, needing to get back up and get into the Maze. Minho was in there, your partner was in there! Minho and Alby, your partner and your leader, and they both needed help and you knew you could help them.</p><p>But there were more hands on you, holding you down. You slammed a fist into the ground. You clawed at the dirt and tried to jab an elbow behind you, but the calloused hand of a Builder shoved it back down. A hand that was meant to be comforting was on your back. You wanted to rip it off. All you could do was watch and struggle and see Thomas vanish into the Maze with Minho and Alby as the door slammed shut.</p><p>You’d never wanted to be in the Maze so bad. </p><p>You’d never been so angry.</p><p>The people around you began drifting away. Hands and arms and legs shifted out of sight. When the person on top of you stood, the person who’d started it all, you knew who you’d see before you turned.</p><p>Newt was holding a hand out to help you up. He was the picture of concern. Soft brown eyes, knitted eyebrows, parted pink lips.</p><p>You rose slowly, ignoring his help. Your whole body shook in fury. He must have thought you were crying, because he stepped forward, arms open to embrace you.</p><p>You shoved him as hard as you could. Only a small part of you felt bad watching him stumble to the ground. The rest of you felt only red.</p><p>“This is your fault. This is all your fault,” you started, teeth gritted so hard you thought they’d break. You began at a whisper, but each word grew louder until you were shouting. “This is all your fault! I could’ve helped them! I should’ve been in there! I should be in there!”</p><p>You turned back to the Maze, fists clenched in rage. You wanted to beat your way through the walls. You wanted to climb up the ivy and rappel down the other side. You wanted to hurt someone, and that scared you so badly that you had to run, like you always did, like you always would. You ran for the trees, where no one could see you. You ran wildly, full of fear, anger, regret, so many emotions you didn’t know what to do with them, you didn’t know who to turn to, you didn’t know what to do. You just kept running. And when you were hidden, you cried for Minho and Alby and Thomas and Newt and the person you had become. And then you ran more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my writing, I go by the same name (JustAnObsessedFangirl) on Tumblr. I write for The Maze Runner, Harry Potter, Teen Wolf, and (kind of) The Walking Dead. I'd love to hear any feedback or requests that you might have :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The woods were dark. You paced around endlessly, waiting for day, praying for a happy ending, terrified of what would lay beyond the open Maze doors when the sun finally rose.</p>
<p>Your stomach was in knots. New blisters were forming on your feet and thin scratches lined your arms, remnants of a tree branch’s caresses. You felt sick. You felt disgusted with yourself. You felt guilty.</p>
<p>
  <em>I’m Minho’s partner!</em>
</p>
<p>Every footstep pounded the word further into your head. <em>Partner, partner, partner. Left him, left him, left him.</em></p>
<p>He needed you, Alby needed you, and you didn’t help them. And now Thomas was in there, a Greenie with less than a week in the Glade under his belt.</p>
<p><em>Newt’s fault, Newt’s fault, Newt’s fault.</em> Step, step step.</p>
<p>Your chest burned with rage. Part of you understood why Newt had held you down and prevented you from helping. Staying in the Maze overnight was, historically, a death sentence.</p>
<p>But that was where Newt had made a mistake. You knew it was dangerous. </p>
<p>And you accepted it. </p>
<p>If staying in the Maze was what you had to do to help Minho and Alby, you would do it, no hesitation. That was your choice to make. Not Newt’s. </p>
<p>You felt like tearing your hair out as you remembered pushing Newt to the ground and pinning all of the blame on him. Just once, why couldn’t you have taken a breath? Calmed down and told him what you were thinking?</p>
<p>Pace, pace, pace. <em>Monster, monster, monster.</em> </p>
<p>Instead, you ran from him. You always ran.</p>
<p>
  <em>Coward, coward, coward.</em>
</p>
<p>You stopped in your tracks and picked up a branch. Using all of your rage and fear and guilt, you whipped it at a tree trunk and watched it splinter into pieces. Then you took a deep breath in, a deep breath out, and turned around and walked to the Glade.</p>
<p>Leaving the shadowy coverage of the trees, you made your way to the doors where you’d last seen your friends. A figure sat slumped against the wall. You were too far away to make out any features, but you knew who it was. The way Newt carried himself was engraved in your mind.</p>
<p>Your steps grew more timid as you neared him. Newt had one leg outstretched, the other bent at the knee. His hands were resting in his lap and his head was tilted back. You couldn't see if his eyes were open or not. </p>
<p>As you drew closer, Newt stirred.</p>
<p>You cleared your throat. “Can I sit down?”</p>
<p>For a second, you didn’t think he was going to respond. His eyes weren’t closed, you saw; he was looking up at the sky, searching for answers among the stars. Then his gaze flicked over to you and he nodded. “Of course, lo-” He frowned and looked back up. “Of course.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Love.</em>
</p>
<p>You sat down a few feet away from him, your back against the wall. The cold stone against your skin should have given relief from the warm night, but it made your skin crawl to touch the Maze. You moved forward and sat up straighter.</p>
<p>The silence that fell over the two of you was unfamiliar. There hadn’t been a time in your relationship where quiet had felt so stifling. Usually, if Newt wasn’t talking or listening, you could glance over at him and find that he was already looking at you, his eyes soft, his smile warm.</p>
<p>You looked over at him. He was staring at the sky.</p>
<p>You followed his gaze up. Overheard, stars twinkled against a pitch-black sky. The moon reigned supreme over them all, full and bright. You wondered if Minho was looking at the moon. Was Thomas searching for a shooting star? Did Alby imagine he could see the hint of a sunrise in the east?</p>
<p>You’d wanted to apologize to Newt, but the words wouldn’t come out. In your heart, you were a coward. The muscles in your legs were already tense, ready for you to run. You had to say something, you had to keep yourself there. You said the first thing you could think of. “Do you think they’ll make it out?”</p>
<p>Newt kept staring at the sky. “We both know what it’s like in there.”</p>
<p>Then, before you could stop yourself, “You should have let me go.”</p>
<p>Now Newt did turn to you, and in his eyes you saw pain and fear and guilt, rage and bitterness and sorrow. You saw a lifetime of suffering in the eyes of a teenager. “How could I let you go in when I know what it’s like?”</p>
<p>The question hung in the air like a noose.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t...I don’t want anyone to be in there, but I couldn’t live with myself if you were.” His voice was thick with emotion.</p>
<p>Your throat felt so constricted you couldn’t talk. Your hands fell to the dirt. You needed something stable, you needed something normal. “You can’t keep doing this,” you said weakly. You gained strength as you found more words. “I need to be able to make my own decisions. You can’t keep treating me like you love me.”</p>
<p>“I do love you.”</p>
<p>“<em>Stop.</em>”</p>
<p>“Love, I can’t. I know you want me to, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. Y/N, I-”</p>
<p>“Newt.” He went quiet at his name. His eyes were so big, so hopeful, so tired. “I can’t be with you.”</p>
<p>“I know-” Newt began, his voice gravelly.</p>
<p>“No,” you cut him off, “you don’t know. And that’s fine. I don’t need you to know. I just need you to...” He’d already given you space. More space than you wanted. Everything had been so hard without him. You would have run yourself into your own grave, because that’s what you did instead of solving problems. You ran. How were you supposed to solve this?</p>
<p>“Whatever you need me to do, love, Y/N, I’ll do it.”</p>
<p>You couldn’t look at him. You traced shapes in the dirt. Subconsciously, your fingers carved an “N.” You slashed a line through it.</p>
<p>“I need you to be my friend,” you said. Looking up, you saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Did it shrink when you said that? Was it seconds away from dying out? “I need a friend right now. And I think you do too.”</p>
<p>Newt slowly nodded. “I’d love to be your friend, Y/N.”</p>
<p>For the first time in weeks, you smiled at Newt. The smile he returned was a little sad, a little glad, and very, very tired. The bags under his eyes had been growing for the past month.</p>
<p>“Minho told me a funny joke the other day.” You sank back against the wall, head tilted up.</p>
<p>Next to you, Newt was sitting the same way. “What was it?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Well, he told me he had a joke about construction, but he's still working on it."</p>
<p>A few seconds passed before Newt let out an amused huff. “That’s awful.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Minho needs to work on his material.” Your lips twitched into a small grin, remembering the countless days spent running with your partner by your side. You refused to think of him without you, or you without him.</p>
<p>“Chuck pranked Gally again,” Newt said.</p>
<p>You laughed, Newt joining in a second later. It filled the air around you. “What’d he do this time?”</p>
<p>Newt launched into the tale of how Chuck, with an unassuming Thomas in tow, managed to scare Gally out of the bathroom.</p>
<p>When he finished, you brought up your favorite Minho story, one you’d never told Newt. It was one of your first days as a Runner, one of your first weeks in the Glade. Minho was cordial enough, if a little distant, especially once you started running.</p>
<p>Soon enough, though, it turned into a race. He couldn’t have you even a few feet ahead of him. “Which was a problem, really, because everyone knows I’m faster than him!”</p>
<p>You’d come back to the Glade sweaty and panting and with Minho’s respect. And more strained muscles than you could count.</p>
<p>Newt talked about Alby. He told you about the rare times Alby smiled, the even rarer times when he laughed. “He’s a good bloke. He’s got a lot of pressure on him.”</p>
<p>You stopped yourself from asking how much pressure Newt put on himself. The serious topics could hold off. For now, you were waiting for the sun to come up.</p>
<p>And, slowly, slowly, slowly, you saw the darkness beginning to creep away. Your conversation, filled with all of the events of the past month that you hadn't been able to share, drifted away as the cold fingers of anxiety crept up your stomach. Chuck joined the two of you, then Frypan, and soon your duo had turned into a group.</p>
<p>You rose as the sun peeked over the horizon. Offering a hand to Newt, you helped him up, then stood side by side and faced the doors.</p>
<p>The seconds ticked by slow as an eternity. Your hand never left Newt’s. Chuck lingered on your other side, shifting back and forth. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you kept him still as the Maze began to rumble.</p>
<p>You were so close to the Maze that the sound of stone scraping against stone was all you could hear. As the noise faded, your heartbeat grew louder. </p>
<p><em>Dread.</em> Dread so thick you could taste it. It sat heavy on your tongue, sour and rancid and acidic.</p>
<p>The doors opened fully. The corridor was empty.</p>
<p>Your heart twisted. You gritted your teeth, forced tears back into your body, swallowed. Newt squeezed your hand. You stared straight forward, not moving, not even breathing.</p>
<p>And then you saw a shoe round the corner.</p>
<p>You broke away from Newt and Chuck, calling to Minho and Thomas and Alby. The boys behind you took up the cry, but none were Runners, so you sprinted into the Maze alone.</p>
<p>Minho and Thomas were supporting Alby, whose feet seemed to scrape the floor instead of step.</p>
<p>Minho’s legs were visibly trembling. His face looked like it had aged years, worn from the exhaustion of a full day and night of running in the Maze. When you reached them, you gave Minho a light push and replaced him under Alby’s arm. Together, you and Thomas carried Alby to the door, Minho trudging along next to you. And although you were full of adrenaline and you were anxious and scared and overjoyed, your heart was beating normally again. A wave of calmness had settled over you once Minho was by your side.</p>
<p>Chuck’s voice was loudest as you exited the Maze. “Yeah!” he cheered, bouncing up and down, punching the air. </p>
<p>You and Thomas laid Alby on the ground. His head lolled to the side, his body limp and unresponsive. </p>
<p>“Where are Clint and Jeff?” You knelt by Alby, scanning the crowd. You stopped on Newt, who nodded and switched into leader mode, giving out orders to the surrounding boys. A few of them took off running.</p>
<p>All of your attention turned to Alby. Pressing your fingers to the side of his neck, you searched for a pulse. Nearby, you heard Thomas and Minho slump onto the grass.</p>
<p><em>Did they ever have a chance to rest? Were they on their feet the whole night? What did they see?</em> </p>
<p>
  <em>What did they do?</em>
</p>
<p>The faint beating beneath your fingers gave you hope. Alby was alive. Barely. But alive.</p>
<p>Once more, Chuck’s voice rose above the rest. “Did you see a Griever?” Chuck looked too excited. Behind him, someone was rushing up to the group. The crowd parted. Red hair flashed in the sun.</p>
<p>Margaret dropped to her knees beside you, setting a canvas bag on the ground. Struck dumb, you watched motionless as she pulled up Alby's shirt. There, beneath the fabric, surrounded by darkened veins, was a puncture wound the size of your thumb, leaking bloody pus. Margaret moved as if she dealt with this every day. She pulled bandages and clean towels out of the bag, starting to clean the wound. </p>
<p>The Griever sting.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I saw a Griever." Thomas sounded like he was in shock. He was breathless, from running or adrenaline or both.</p>
<p>“He didn’t just see it,” Minho said between pants. “He killed it.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my writing, I go by the same name (JustAnObsessedFangirl) on Tumblr. I write for The Maze Runner, Harry Potter, Teen Wolf, and (kind of) The Walking Dead. I'd love to hear any feedback or requests that you might have :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The boys carried Alby to the Med-Jack Hut as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. At first, he twitched infrequently, muttering softly, but then he was writhing and screaming in agony, twisting this way and that, biting at Gladers like a feral animal.</p><p>Once inside the Hut, he only grew louder. You watched as Clint administered the serum that would save Alby’s life, and you heard as Alby’s roars turned guttural.</p><p>It hurt to watch them tie him to the bed. How could someone as strong as Alby, the leader of the whole Glade for as long as you’d been there, be reduced to that?</p><p>It was all too much. Too much pain, too much loss, too much grief. As Alby shrieked in one room with Newt by his side, Minho and Thomas were patched up in another, and you slipped out the door. You paced the length of the building, came back to the door, turned around again, reached the end of the building, turned around, again and again and again, trying to beat the thoughts out of your brain.<br/>
Fear and relief fought for dominance over your emotions. You wanted to grieve for Alby, to celebrate for Minho and Thomas. You wanted to cry big fat tears of sadness, and you wanted to smile so hard your eyes welled up.</p><p>How could you be at once terrified for Alby and immeasurably happy for Minho and Thomas? How could Alby get handed a death sentence, but Thomas kill a Griever? Who had designed this cruel twist of fate?</p><p>Your steps never slowed as you began shifting the blame onto the people who put you in the Glade.</p><p>
  <em>It’s their fault. It’s all their fault. Every single life lost in here, every nightmare, every frown. The Creators did this.</em>
</p><p>The Hut door creaked open. You whirled around, expecting Minho or Thomas or Newt, expecting a sign of hope, and saw Margaret.</p><p>Her red hair was tied up in a ponytail, giving her an air of self-assurance. The way she held herself was so much stronger than that girl who’d cowered in the Box that you almost did a double-take.<br/>
Instead, with your thoughts bouncing from one worry to the next, a question from the back of your mind spilled out. “I thought you worked in the Gardens?”</p><p>If Margaret was surprised by your question, she didn’t show it. Right then, she seemed unshakeable. “I was helping for the day,” she replied. She wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving behind dark bloody streaks that made your insides grow cold, then looked back to you, raising her chin proudly. “I’ve been spending the rest of my time with Clint and Jeff.”</p><p><em>Except for when you were making out with Newt</em>--you forced the thought away. That was over. Done. You’d made a kind of peace with Newt; you could do the same with Margaret, especially after she came to Alby’s aid. </p><p>You’d been kneeling next to Alby, only a few feet from the Maze doors, just staring at the sting. The grass had tickled your knees. The wind had whispered through your hair. You had only stared.<br/>
And then Margaret was there. She’d nudged you out of your dumbfounded stupor, moving you enough that she could start applying pressure to Alby’s sting. When she barked out orders, Gladers leapt to obey. She’d made you a glorified table, shoving supplies into your hands until she was ready for them, and you would’ve thanked her if you could get any words out because <em>she was saving Alby’s life</em>. You’d stuck to her side and held bandages the entire time they carried Alby to the Med-Jack Hut.</p><p>“Clint says the Grief Serum will save Alby, and Thomas and Minho are fine, except for a few cuts and bruises.” Margaret’s voice was soft, matching her smile. “And Minho says he’s starved, but he’s just being dramatic.”</p><p>An unintentional grin pulled at your lips, bringing a reprieve from the memory of Alby’s wound. “Good to know he’s still a diva. I was worried.”</p><p>“It was really brave of all of them to go in...there. I don’t know how you Runners do that.”</p><p>Your smile slipped away. Alby shouldn’t have been there, not with just Minho. Not without you. And if you had gone, maybe Thomas never would have needed to go, to witness the true horrors that roamed the Maze at night. You picked your words carefully. “I don’t know how you Med-Jacks do what you do.” There it was again, behind your eyes: the hole in Alby’s stomach. Remembering the look on Alby’s face brought a wave of nausea. “Don’t you feel guilty--” your words were cut off when a howl of agony rose from the Med-Jack Hut. You winced, but Margaret squared her shoulders and ducked back inside.</p><p>You lingered by the door. Your feet itched to run away, as far as you could, anywhere where you wouldn’t have to hear anymore. They refused to take a single step closer to the building. It took every ounce of your restraint to even stay rooted near the Hut.</p><p><em>I will not run.</em> You repeated it like a mantra. <em>I will not run I will not run I will not run</em>-</p><p>Margaret appeared again. She nodded at you, a confident <em>Everything is under control</em> nod, and closed the door behind her, leaving the pair of you alone outside once more.</p><p>“If you’re stung and you don’t get the Serum, you die,” Margaret stated. “If you do get the Serum, you live.”</p><p>“But you have to go through <em>that</em>.” You pointed at the door. Behind it, you could strain your ears and hear the sound of Alby pulling at his restraints, bucking wildly on the bed, just like he had been when you left. “And after you go through that, you still might end up crazy.” You spat the words out, even though it wasn’t Margaret’s fault Ben tried to murder Thomas. It wasn’t Margaret’s fault Ben was dead or Alby was stung or everything was changing.</p><p>“But you have a chance.”</p><p>It was so simple you didn’t know how to respond.</p><p>Margaret continued. “We gave Alby a chance. That’s all we can do.” She let her words hang in the air for a few seconds, then took a small step forward. “And…well…I was hoping you could give me a chance too. Time is so precious here. I don’t want to waste any more of it.” </p><p>You caught a glimpse of determination in her green eyes before you looked away, back to the door, hoping for Minho or Thomas or Newt to walk out so you could leave. Your heartbeat picked up, your muscles readied themselves for a sprint. You didn’t want to hear her apologize -- if she apologized then who could you be mad at? Who should you be mad at? How was it okay to try being friends with Newt if you didn’t give Margaret another chance too?</p><p>“Y/N, I want you to know that I’m really sorry.”</p><p>You nearly bolted.</p><p>Margaret kept talking, her voice smooth and calm, like she was trying to coax a feral animal into a trap. “When I first came up in the Box, I was so scared.”</p><p>“We all were.”</p><p>Margaret nodded. There wasn’t a trace of anger on her face. You almost wanted there to be, because then you would have an excuse to get mad. You wouldn’t have to stand here and try to be an adult, try to have a rational conversation. You could blow up and run away and not have to feel guilty because she was mad too.</p><p>“I was terrified, like everyone is when they arrive,” Margaret said. And when I saw that there were only boys, I was even more scared. I know you probably felt that way too.”</p><p>You said nothing, but memories of the day you woke up in the Box still plagued your nightmares sometimes, especially recently, now that you slept alone. The fear of the unknown as the elevator rose. The panic upon seeing all boys. The deep, freezing, overwhelming horror when you saw the walls.</p><p>“Seeing another girl helped,” Margaret’s voice had your full attention, but you couldn’t look at her. You kept your gaze steady on the door. “And Newt helped too. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear that.”</p><p>“He helps everyone when they get here.” You were too defensive. He didn’t deserve you being so defensive. Were you acting like this to protect Newt or because you wanted to go against Margaret?</p><p><em>It’s for Newt</em>, one part of your mind thought, while another part raged against <em>her</em>.</p><p>Margaret nodded again. “He really helped me adjust to being here. He’s a good leader. We...we spent a lot of time in the Gardens together the first few days.”</p><p>It was starting to get painful. You squeezed your eyes shut, but that only made you picture them together. He was smiling the way he only did for you, or the way he used to do for you, and it made your chest ache.</p><p>Margaret quickly said, “We weren’t doing anything, though! It was just friendly. We were just friends.”</p><p>“Friends don’t kiss,” you spat. In only three words, you’d channeled enough anger to make Margaret go pale. The confidence she had from being in her element was drifting away, her shoulders drawing in, her arms wrapping around herself. She was shrinking before your eyes.</p><p>You felt a stab of guilt.</p><p>“We only kissed once, I swear! And it didn’t mean anything! Not to either of us. He was comforting me and it just happened. I was upset because…” Margaret trailed off. She took a deep breath. “I was upset because I didn’t feel like I could contribute. I didn’t want everyone thinking I was just another mouth to feed. I didn’t want to be someone who couldn’t help out, who just took. I want to help. I need to help. I wanted to be,” Margaret crossed her arms across her chest as if daring you to argue, “I wanted to be as dependable as you, not some weak girl who could barely dig a hole.”</p><p>You thought you must have misheard her, but she was looking at you earnestly, her eyes bright and her mouth set into a firm line.</p><p>“And I did find something I can do. I’m a Med-Jack.” She wasn’t trying to squeeze herself into a tight ball anymore. Margaret stood there, a far cry from the scared girl who’d come up in the Box, and said, “I’m proud of where I am, but there are still a lot of things I wish I could take back. You know the main one, but I won’t go into it. I don’t think you want me to.”</p><p>You quickly shook your head. Staring at her, at the true version of Margaret, not the one who’d been warped by bitter, angry memories, made you let out a weak laugh. “I’d rather get stung by a Griever.”</p><p>A small, playful smile crept onto Margaret’s face. It was shy and timid and eager -- the kind of smile a teenager is supposed to have. “I could fix you up after.” Her tone edged the border between serious and light.</p><p>At some point, your eyes had locked onto hers. You let them drift now, glancing to the door. “I bet you could.” You took a deep breath. “Thank you. For saving Alby. And helping the others. You do contribute to the Glade.”</p><p>Margaret’s face opened to a sweet, satisfied grin. “Thank you.”</p><p>She looked like she was waiting for you to say more. The door started to open, so you rushed out, “And maybe we could try being friends.” Then you darted towards Minho, reaching him when he only had one foot in the grass, and threw your arms around him.</p><p>Minho’s laugh sounded like music. “Careful, I’m delicate!” he complained as Thomas slunk out behind him.</p><p>You scoffed and pulled away to jab Minho in the side. “No, you’re not.”</p><p>When you looked up at him, it was all you could do not to hug him again. Aside from a few scratches and a small bruise on his cheekbone, he looked exactly like the person you’d spent months running through the Maze with. He looked exactly like your partner.</p><p>Alby’s wailing shattered your peace. You and Minho moved away from the Med-Jack Hut. He nudged the door closed with his foot.</p><p>Minho’s demeanor had darkened at the sound of Alby. There was less joy in his voice when he said, “We’re having a Gathering today.”</p><p>Your eyebrows shot up. “Because of him?” You jerked your chin at Thomas.</p><p>Thomas shrugged and muttered, “You mean this isn’t what Greenies usually do?”</p><p>Margaret giggled.</p><p>Turning back to Minho, you asked, hope lacing your words, “You’re going to make him a Runner, right?”</p><p>“I’m going to try.” Shaking his head, Minho added, “Some shanks are upset about what he did, though.”</p><p>The corners of your lips pulled down. You’d heard Gladers talking while they passed by the Med-Jack Hut when you’d been waiting. Most had been in awe of Thomas’s bravery, but a few, namely one loud-mouthed blond Builder, couldn’t get over the fact that Thomas had broken a rule. “What did Newt say?”</p><p>Minho heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “He’s on our side, but who knows how the Gathering will go. If Gally picks up steam…”</p><p>You shook your head, directing your attention to Thomas. “I’m with you. You should be considered a hero.” Thomas ducked his head, but you weren’t sure if he was embarrassed or reliving last night’s dark memories. You kept talking. “What you did took ten times more courage than Gally has ever shown. Newt knows that too.”</p><p>“Newt knows what?” Newt’s voice rose over the creak of the door opening. As he emerged from the Med-Jack Hut, he looked as though he’d aged 10 years. Already, you could see the stress settling on his shoulders, weighing him down.</p><p>There was a yearning inside of you to pull him close and take as much of the burden as you could, like you’d done for each other in the past.</p><p>But that was the past and this was your present, so you said, “You know Thomas should be a Runner. <em>He killed a Griever</em>. We need him.”</p><p>“I’m not the one you need to convince, love.” Newt glanced at the sky, where the afternoon sun hung heavy and golden. “But I guess it’s time to find out how everyone else feels.” With that, he started walking in the direction of the Homestead.</p><p>Nearly everyone looked as surprised as you felt by Newt’s abruptness.</p><p>Margaret was the exception. She still wore that confident, serene expression when she said, “Good luck, everyone. I’m on your side too, Thomas, if that counts for anything.” </p><p>“Thanks.” Thomas watched Margaret until she disappeared into the Hut and shut the door behind her. When she was gone, he shook his head, as if clearing his mind, then shifted his focus to Minho and you.</p><p>“I’m going to walk with Newt. I’ll see you guys in a bit?” You didn’t wait for a reply. After a few seconds of light jogging, you were next to Newt.</p><p>He was frowning. Everything about him was moving down; his eyebrows were drawn together, the bags under his eyes were heavy, the corners of his lips pointed south, and he walked like a man going to his execution.</p><p>“You can do this, Newt.” The words flowed freely. “You can be the leader. You can figure this out.”</p><p>Newt stared straight ahead. “I’ve never run a Gathering without Alby. I don’t know what to do with that empty seat next to me.” The accent over his words was thick.</p><p> You didn’t second guess yourself when you reached out and took his hand. Immediately, he squeezed, gripping you like you were a life preserver and he was drowning. “Alby will be okay.”</p><p>“He won’t be the same.”</p><p>“But he has a chance.” Those were Margaret’s words coming out of your mouth, but you found yourself believing them more as you said them. “He has a chance, and we have a chance. To escape.”</p><p>With every step you took, you grew closer to the Homestead and Newt’s posture straightened.<br/>
He looked down at you. His eyes were deep pools of brown, so soft and warm you wanted to drift asleep right there. “We have a chance,” he repeated.</p><p>The two of you stopped outside the Homestead door. Your hand slipped out of his. For a second, your pinkies stayed joined, like you were promising each other that you would take your chance. </p><p>Then you broke apart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my writing, I go by the same name (JustAnObsessedFangirl) on Tumblr. I write for The Maze Runner, Harry Potter, Teen Wolf, and (kind of) The Walking Dead. I'd love to hear any feedback or requests that you might have :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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